Capitol Crossed Lovers
by Magdelyn
Summary: My name is Katniss Everdeen. I am sixteen years old. I am from the Capitol, and I fell in love with a boy fighting to the death on a screen.
1. Chapter 1

Capitol Crossed Lovers

_My name is Katniss Everdeen. I am sixteen years old. I am from the Capitol, and I fell in love with a boy fighting to the death on a screen. _

"Are you excited for the reapings today dear?" my mother's haughty voice trickles into my room as she comes to make sure I am up, at the ungodly hour of five in the morning, "beauty is pain dear," that pain of course translating into me rising before the sun. As my mother reaches my room I jerk backwards, shocked at the sight of her greened face, I wonder if she dyed her skin before realizing it was a mask for her skin. Seeing my reaction she says "it's just a chemical peel," I think she rolls her eyes, "Poly says it will make me look at least ten years younger."

"Poly's quite the time keeper," I grumble, she slides my light controls to their brightest setting,

"Get out of that bed, Vapor will be here any minute," As I drag myself out of my thick bedding I wonder why she came to wake me, usually Flix, one of our avoxes, takes care of that. Regardless I have to get ready, today especially I "cannot dawdle around" because at ten I must be at the presidents house to watch the reapings, meaning I must look my absolute best. I do my morning stretches, to make sure my body will be ready for Vapor, my stylist. Vapor has been my stylist since I was deemed old enough to wear make up and high end clothing (which was 15 months old.) I wrap in a robe as she arrives.

Vapor sways into my room, in dramatic black smokey make-up, and a short black dress, paired with black heels. Black is very in right now. "How are you dear?" I know not to complain about the time because she has to get up at three to ready herself before she can come take care of me and my looks. One time when I was seven I grumbled about the time, and for my entire three hour session I was told how lucky I was to sleep in. Vapor and I are friends in a way, she knows me better than anybody, but she's sort of a second mother to me, a motherly friend.

Vapor runs my bath and puts my favorite settings on, I disrobe and slide in, throwing my head back so she can do my make-up while the rest of me is taken care of by the machines. After a while I feel the bath begin to drain and the hot air blow into my hair, which Vapor styles while chatting about the events of tonight. Like me she gets to go to the president's house for the event, the advantage of being my stylist, or rather a stylist of the Everdeen family. Father's stylist (who really doesn't have to do much at all) Westh, gets to go, mother's stylist, Poly gets to go, as well as Vapor, and Vapor's brother, Valor, who is Prim's stylist; they need to be congratulated for their fine work on us.

Vapor lays out a skirt and a bustier for me to step into, I dress then I walk to my mirror wall to look at her work. My hair is put up into in two braids along the sides of my head, which curve into a bun on the top of my head. My eyes are lined with white, the white is then lined with black, my lips are black as well. That's it for my make-up, minimalist. My nails are shiny black with matte black french tips. My bustier and skirt match, they are black and white squared patterns.

"You are much too young to be wearing all black, I needed to lighten you up," Vapor pursues her lips as she debates between two pairs of shoes in her hands, a pair of black heels, and a pair of black flats, secretly I hope she chooses the flats; she doesn't.

"It's beautiful," I tell her, like always, it's the polite thing to do.

"Thank you dear, you're too kind," she packs her things, before hovering her lips above my left cheek, then my right as I do the same. We hover because we'd ruin our make-up if we actually pressed our lips against each others faces.

Afterwards I have to be downstairs, promptly, to eat breakfast with my family. I check the time, my session is to end at 8, I am to be downstairs by 8:05, it's 8:03. I hurry out of my room, down the long hall, to the grand marble stair case, I click down and settle into my seat at 8:05 exactly. A line of avoxes come out, carrying silver individual plates, four of them, one for each of us. We are served and eat, casually talking, wondering what the games might be like this year. My mother hopes for deforest arena, the desert last year was "Too boring, the tributes died too quickly." After we eat it's 9:00. We have a half hour before we have to leave, Prim and I look to our mother, hoping to get time to spend together. "You girl's can be excused, make sure you're down promptly at 9:30 to leave for the viewings," we rise, and walk at an appropriate speed, not too excitedly, we cherish our time our time together, but we still must act in "polite lady like ways." We walk into our sprawling garden, and sit on the delicate golden hanging swings,

"Wow, Prim look at those shoes!" I gasp. I don't know how Prim is walking, her feet are in simple black boots, with pointed toes, but the heel of the boot curls down into a crescent moon shape underneath her foot, reaching to the front of her boot a few inches away from her toe, leaving her balancing her on a rocker. I'd be on my face in a minute, flat, but she's always been steadier on her feet than me.

"I know! I just love them," Prim gushes, picking up her thin leg to examine the boots. "Valor actually _designed_ them just for me, they're called Primful," the name is actually kind of funny, since it's supposed to sound like _sinful_ which is the antonym to _Prim_. We sit and talk for the half hour we have left, I wish I could play with Prim's hair, like I do when she sneaks into my room late at night so we can talk, off schedule, god forbid. I contain myself however and don't ruin Valor's hard work.

After our time has passed we walk to the car that will take us to one of the biggest parties of the year. All four of us sit in the back, and we're all grateful that our stylists chose outfits that don't wrinkle, having to sprawl along the chairs and lay the entire ride is really a pain. We talk during the drive, nothing of real substance, about fashion, jewels, the games. We get there and an avox helps us out of the car. I fall into step next to Prim, behind our parents. We walk up the large stairs, and into the mansion,"Gale and Rose should be here, why don't you go look from them?" my mother suggests, another way of saying "leave the adults to talk."

Gale and Rose are President Snow's grandchildren, Gale is a few years older than me. Rose is Prim's age, we always joke those two complete each other, they have been best friend's their entire life, and since Prim's full name is Primrose, but she goes by Prim, Rose is her other half. Gale is my friend, but everyone thinks there is more. My parents wish there was more, they want me to marry Gale, he has very good statues, being the president's grandson and all. Gale wants me to marry Gale too. At least that's what everybody says, Prim sometimes gushes to me how cute we'd be together, how we're meant to be, how everyone thinks it, including Gale. Prim grabs my hand, and whispers into my ear, "Gale will love you in that outfit," I smile uncomfortably, it's not that I don't like Gale, because I do, he's a good friend, but I can't see him as anything more.

We eventually find Gale and Rose at a table that's lavished with crème brûlées, chocolate covered strawberries, custards, berry tarts, mousses, and tall sponge cakes. Gale is teasing Rose, he puts a dot of whipped cream from a tart on the tip of her nose. "Gale, don't!" Rose has the sweetest voice, she doesn't sound threatening at all. "You'll mess up my make-up, and Apollo did a really beautiful job!" she wipes her nose, when she notices us approaching her and her brother. "Prim! You're here, finally!" Prim gathers her in a hug before they stand back to admire each other's outfits, Prim's shoes get a lot of attention.

"Hey," I greet Gale, he pulls me into a hug, "Is anyone else here yet?" I refer to our friends, Finnick Odair, and Johanna Mason, they're previous victors, and are invited to watch the reapings with us, to deny would be a giant disrespect to the Capitol, and the president. They couldn't say no. We became casual friends with the two a few years back. I say casual because they don't really like us, I'm fact they loathe us, and everything we are, we have everything while they grew up having nothing, and their districts still have very little; but we aren't bad company.

"Nah, they're probably getting here soon," Gale picks out a tart and eats it in one bite, after he finishes talking, to be polite, of course. "The shows are starting soon, so you better eat before we have to settle down,"

"I just had breakfast," I offer. Gale shrugs his head to a table with a tower of flutes containing a bubbly pink drink, that looks sweet but in reality will have you throwing out your stomach in a matter of seconds. I hate throwing up. It's gross, physically and morally. The first time I had one of the flutes I was six, I had complained to my mother about my stomach, which ached because I had too many rich chocolate cakes. She had handed me a flute, trying to juggle Prim in her other arm, while talking to the game maker. Curious of the pretty drink I downed it right then and there, throwing up on the game maker, and my mother's shoes, you can imagine the mortification I caused. Ever since I've hated the feeling of being sick, not that it's great for anyone, they just don't mind it as much. I realized the morality of it when I threw up upon my first meeting with Johanna and Finnick. I had overstuffed myself, I needed go get the food out I felt so uncomfortable. I grabbed myself a drink and excused myself to the bathroom, where I could hear others making themselves sick. When I walked back out, feeling much better, I could see the looks of disgust on their faces, and I was grateful that Vapor had painted red for my make-up because my face had never felt hotter with shame. That was the last time I'd forcibly thrown up, but I hadn't made a good impression, to say the least.

While Gale pays attention to what dessert he'll pick next, not minding that it's only 10:30, I look for Prim and Rose. They're at a separate table, that has a tower of truffles taller than them, their eyes are lit up. They point and grab and eat and laugh and eat and drink flutes of bubbly pink drinks. A tiny bit of disappointment floods down my throat and sloshes in my stomach, with the same feeling the drink would give me.

I turn around and standing less than a foot away is Finnick Odair, he flashes his bright teeth at me. Before I can say hi his hand flicks up, "Berry?" he asks, cocking his head to the side slightly.

"Uh, no thanks," I wasn't a particularly big fan of raspberries, I think they were part of the cakes I'd gorged on when I was six. Finnick pops the berry into his mouth, chewing with a smirk and eyes that danced for a reason I couldn't figure out. "How have you been?" I ask, trying to be polite,

"Oh the usual,"

"And what is the usual for the great Finnick Odair?"

"Secrets," there's that smirk and dancing eyes again.

"Secret?"

"Oh yeah, loads, great, juicy secrets, secrets you'd die to know, I probably know more about you than you know about you." This annoys me because I hate not knowing things. I could care less about the secret but now that Finnick has knowledge that I don't, I have to know. But he can't know this. I raise my chin with an air of superiority,

"I probably already know them," his smirk grows,

"Whatever you say," we're interrupted by Snow's voice coming over his intercom,

"The reaping of District 1 is about to begin, please make your way to our viewing room," Finnick bites the inside of his cheek, but irregardless of his feelings towards the games, he makes his way into the viewing room with me. We sit on a leather sofa, and wait. Gale eventually finds us, his eyes harden when he sees Finnick sitting so close to me,

"Finnick," he nods his head, before talking the seat on my other side. That's the thing about Gale, he's possessive over me and I'm not even his, it's a turn off to be honest.

"I haven't seen Johanna anywhere,"

"Maybe she didn't want to come this year," Gale points out, but we all know she'd be a fool to decline her offer.

"Oh no, there she is!" Finnick smiles, pointing to Johanna, in a very short black dress, sitting very straight and rigid, all by herself, probably glaring at anyone who walks by (this assumption is proven true when a young man tries to sit down with her but quickly chooses a different set with friendlier company.) "That's our Johanna, always making friends," Finnick smiles as though he is the proudest parent in the world. "Johanna!" he rises his voice, as loud as publicly acceptable. Her head turns sharply the side, but she doesn't completely turn, waiting to see if she really head Finnick's voice in a way that wouldn't embarrass her if he wasn't calling her. "Jo-haaaanaa," he sings her name the second time. She is up in a single sweeping movement, walking in the most confident manner towards us; well probably only Finnick, she couldn't careless about Gale and I. She sits without a word, and after a pause turns to Finnick, and I'm sure it's Finnick only she wants to complain to, but she does want Gale and me to hear too, I'm sure of that too.

"These Capitol residents, yuck," she says with the look of utter disdain on her face, "they're freaks, all of them," her eyes flick to Gale and me for a second, before returning to Finnick, "They have absolutely no morals. And this fashion oh god, do you see what these people are wearing?" then crosses her legs with a sigh, as if we "Capitol residents" cause her physical fatigue from having to look at us. I don't point out that she is dressed like us. "My stylist, the idiot, remember I was telling you about her?" she barely let's Finnick get a "Yep," out before continuing, "The idiot tried to embed jewels into my face."

Unfortunately for me, I laugh. Many people here get jewel accents on their entire body, but Johanna made the common procedure sound like her stylist suggested that arms and legs were out of fashion and that they had to cut her's off. Thinking about it, I hope that arms and legs stay very much in fashion. Johanna hears me, of course, she's facing me, and only sitting one person away, "You think that's funny you Capitol mutt?" her voice drips with venom, and I remember back to her games, her wicked ability to kill, I wouldn't put it past her to kill me, here and now.

I'm about to come up with a retort when the large screen snaps on, and we can see into District 1, see their escort, Dexy Banks, a short little thing trilling into the microphone. I don't pay much attention to the talking or the names, I just watch a girl, with blonde hair, volunteers, and then as a boy, with hair the color of dark honey and skinny arms volunteers. They're both smiling, excited for their chance to bring fame to themselves. I wonder how they choose who will volunteer, everyone trains for the Games there, we all know, but how do only two kids who have spent their eighteen years of life among probably a hundred others get to be picked over all their peers? Is it whoever calls out first? Whoever has the greatest chance of winning? I don't know, and I probably never will.

The reapings continue on, not many people catch my eye, usually the same typical personalities come from each district, powerful and cocky players come from districts one and two, smart kids lacking physically from district three, and the list goes on. When District 4's town hall appears on screen Finnick leans forward in his seat, I hear the names, Lyn Kawthar, and Araxie Brimlad, Finnick blows air through his nose, and I can only imagine how horrible it would be to watch your friends get picked to die. I can understand why he and Johanna hate us. Fortunately I don't have any real reason to imagine, I, and all of my friends and family, are safe. And just as District 4's reapings started, they end, and the rest continue on. Johanna has a similar reaction to the tributes from her district, two kids named Ainsley and Axel Burl, siblings. Ainsley had to be seventeen or eighteen, little Axel could only be twelve, which makes me imagine the nightmare of having to go into the games with Prim.

The rest of the reapings go by without event, I continue tuning out speeches and names, only watching to see if the tribute had a chance of winning. When we get to District 12 I can't wait for it to end so I can find some dinner, we had a break between districts seven and eight, but I had only got a snack then before being directed back to my seat. It was almost seven at night and I had only had breakfast and a small serving of salmon and salty kale chips. I watch the girl tribute being called up, who's name I don't remember, she looked utterly bored. Anxious to get home I urge the male victor, who's sure to die given his circumstances, to hurry up and get onto the stage. I don't hear his name either, I just want him to take his place quickly. When I see him, however, I wished I had paid attention to his name, he had blond hair and bright blue eyes, that told me he was not like the other tributes. Then the screen falls to black, before I can figure out what I saw in those eyes. The lights come on and everyone gets ready to find a plate and settle in for dinner, I get a bowl of lamb stew and sit with my family, as well as the president's family, at the head of the table. Finnick and Johanna do not sit with us. I pay most of my attention to my stew, which is probably my favorite food, and only vaguely pay attention to the conversation. It's probably boring talk about the games anyways. My mind does wander to the games, but not to which tribute would be best suited to win, or who my family should sponsor and give money too; no, it wanders to the blue eyes that held something special, something unlike anything I had seen before in a boy who had just been given his death sentence, because he will, with out a doubt in my mind die. Seems a shame really, with those eyes.

"Katniss!" My mother's sharp tongue snaps me out of my own mind, "President Snow just asked who you'd like to see win," her voice strains with forced patience.

"The boy from District 12," my mouth throws the words out before I can stop it. All their eyes turn to me, making me wish I had answered in a correct manner, with a reply like "The girl from District 2 looks strong, like she'd put up an good fight, I can't wait to see her go against the District 1 boy," that would have been a good reply.

"Rooting for the underdog, ey?" President Snow laughs, saving my dignity, a bit.

"Yeah," I laugh back shakily, just glad I didn't know his real name to spit out, caring enough about a tribute, especially a District 12 tribute, to remember their name after the reapings meant you had real faith in them. Having faith in a District 12 kid was embarrassing and laughable, they were poor, and only had two victors in the history of forever, one had died, the other had just fallen headfirst off the stage, completely drunk.

I'm glad for the evening to end, peeling off my tight clothing to put on a silk pajama set feels almost as good as the bath I take to get all of the products out of my hair and off my body. I fall into my bed, barely able to keep my eyes open, in a state of warm drowsy sleep already. Prim doesn't join me that night, probably in her own bath or bed already, and I'm left to dream about the blue eyes filled with emotions I couldn't place.

_This first chapter was just to get to know Katniss as a person from the Capitol instead of District 12, but she did get to 'meet' Peeta, things will pick up more in the next few chapters. I hope everyone liked the first chapter, and please leave a review! -MGB_


	2. Chapter 2

For the next few weeks I'll have to stay in with my family, and watch the game showings. Sometimes we go to other family friend's houses, sometimes other families come to our house. Which of course means I can't lay in my pajamas all day, a bit ridiculous that I have to be up early to get ready for hours so I can sit around the house all day. The first night of the games nothing terribly exciting happens, by my count nine tributes die, and if I remember correctly both of the tributes from Johanna's district are out, and one from Finnick's. The cameras don't show the 12 boy much the first day, only while he was standing on his podium before the games started (his eyes are just as blue as I dreamed them to be.) I don't pay much attention to the other tributes, while the rest of my family places their bids and pick favorites, the boy from District 2, Cato, will win by my family's assumptions, which wouldn't surprise me, or anybody really. By the second day alliances had formed and I was surprised to see the blue eyed boy with all the careers, District 12 kids were the farthest thing from careers. I wondered how he'd squeezed into that group. He kills a girl on the second day, with the help of Cato, I think _maybe he's more dangerous than he seems, and therefore an asset, and therefore maybe it's too early to write him off as dead._ The thought makes the games a little better.  
The next two days of the games are horribly boring, the game makers need to get their shit together. I almost voice this opinion but I'd get in trouble if I did, for two reasons- my language is not very lady-like, and I'm sure my mother would go on and on about how hard the game makers work. Well right now the game makers are sucking at their jobs. Things pick up and get a little more exciting, at the end of the third day. The girl tribute from District 12 is killed by a wall of fire, and fire cannonballs, she tries to dodge them, but eventually one gets her leg and she collapses, unable to move and stuck in a forest fire, a cannon goes off a minute later.  
On the fifth day the career group, and 12, are woken up by a falling nest if tracker jackers that a little girl drops on them. I feel worry knot in my stomach for the boy. But it seems he is smart, and unlike a few of the others, doesn't try to grab his supplies, he just books it out of there, saving his own life.  
After that the next few days are boring again, four tributes die, but not in very interesting ways. I find myself wondering again where the 12 boy is, because he is not shown on screen much, he finally reappears on the eleventh day. He's almost dead. He's hidden himself in a muddy stream, he has a deep cut on his thigh, I'd give him a few hours, maybe. His state makes me feel sad, not in a pity kind of way though, in a "I'd miss you if you died," kind of way, I think, I've never known away who has died. I wondered where he had gotten the cut and why I didn't see it happen and if I could help him. Another tribute must have cut him while I was asleep in a moment of extremely unlucky coincidence for the boy. I go to bed that night upset that the blue eyed boy would soon be dead, wondering why I cared so much.

* * *

I wake with a start at three am. _I can help the boy,_ is the thought that interrupts my dreaming. I pull myself out of my bed, slide into my furry slippers, and walk to my father and mother's room, I knock loudly, you never know what two parents are up to in bed and trust me when I say I had no intentions of ever walking in on anything. Eventually my father opens the door, shielding his eyes from the hall lights, "Is everything all right? What's the matter?"  
"You have to help him or he'll die! He's going to die but you can help him, I need you to help him, please," I'm talking a mile a minute,  
"Who? Who's going to die?" he rubs his eyes tiredly, not as rushed now that I don't seem to be in any apparent danger.  
"The boy! I don't know his name, 12."  
"Can't this wait until the morning?"  
"No, he could be dead by now, it needs to happen now."  
He groans, which lets me know I won.  
"Thanks," I stand on my tippy-toes to put a kiss on his cheek, I don't have to hover this time.  
I walk back to my room and hear my father on the phone, "Is the boy from 12 still alive?... Barely? Well good, barely is enough. I'd like to sponsor him, send him whatever medicine he needs... no cost is not an issue, just send it... uh a message? One second..." I hear him call me back, which slightly frustrates me, because this is urgent, "Do you want to send a message?"  
"Uh," what in the world would I say to a boy who probably hates my guts on principle, that's dying, and that I've taken a liking to despite never having talking to him. "Stay alive?"  
"'Stay alive'" I move my hands in a circular motion, to say "hurry up!" "Okay, please send it quickly, the boy has limited time."  
Afterwards I go back to my room and turn my screen on, hoping the cameras will pick up the boy. They do as his parachute falls, sending him a life saving present. It lands on his hand, waking him, his eyes flick open. Where there had previously been only weeds and mud were now a pair of blue eyes that were unmistakable to me now. A hand moves from out of it's mold in the mud, reaching to the silver canister, opening it as though he has all the time in the world, I want to yell, "Hurry! Open it or you'll die." but it would be futile, he wouldn't hear me, I'd only accomplish waking the rest of the house. Then slowly, as if he's trying to sneak around his house on creaky floorboards late at night he spins the top off the container, showing a syringe which he promptly injects into his arm, probably hoping that's the correct way to do it. I hope for him as well. The action of saving his own life seems to drain him completely, and he sinks back into the river bank, eyes closed he is once again hidden, the only evidence of his presence, the canister and syringe, are now floating down stream.  
Unable to fall back asleep, I watch him sleep. He rises an hour after passing out, he looks down at his leg, both of our hoping worked, and his leg is undamaged once again. He rinses himself off in the stream, then abandons his hiding place. The cameras follow him walking, rather noisily for someone who's trying to not die I might add, for another fifteen minutes before switching to red haired fox-faced girl. I watch the cameras go from tribute to tribute until Vapor comes to get me ready. I fall asleep during my bath, which earns me a lecture about attitude and behavior, really it has nothing to do with either of those things, it has to do with the fact that I'm tired. What a novel idea, I fell asleep because I was tired.  
After being prepared for a day of sitting around watching the games again, I gather with the rest of my family for another day of the show. Today a huge guy tribute gets killed by Cato, the fight being kinda unfair because Cato had protective gear. The red haired girl that I had been watching earlier dies too, I'd say by eating some berries, because a moment after they pass her lips she is down on the ground, a cannon firing into the sky. These two deaths leave Cato and 12.  
Nothing happens for the rest of the day, or the next day, the following day however was a different story. Cato and the boy run into each other. Cato slashes his knife first, and I know this is the last time I will see the boy, I'll miss his eyes. Cato gets a deep cut into 12's leg (this boy's leg cannot catch a break), blood immediately starts flowing. Cato is about to finish 12 off when a far off sound distracts him. It sound like Rose's dog barking, but meaner. Before either can react a pack of huge mutts explode into the trees, Cato starts running, abandoning his kill. 12 is a little smarter, rather than trying to out run the mutts he jumps, and grabs a high branch, hoisting himself up. Half the mutts go after Cato, the other half stay at the base of the tree. The boy will have to move farther up the tree if he doesn't want the beasts to get him, his leg wound is still bleeding all over the place, making the branches wet and slick. He makes it up a few more branches before he is white as a sheet, he'd better hope those mutts get Cato before they get a particularly high jump. 12 gets up one more branch, and I know he won't have much more time, he looks like he's about to pass out and fall into the mutt's razor sharp teeth.  
The camera's switch to Cato, who has given up running and is instead is foolishly trying to fight the giant animals. The mutts have a hard time with Cato's chest gear, but his legs, arms and head are fair game. Each time a Cato gets a swipe with his knife a mutt gets an even bigger bite out of Cato.  
Now it is just a race against the clock, which tribute will become victor is dependent on how well their bodies deal with blood loss.  
Cato screams while the boy takes shallow breaths, day turns into night and the mutts are relentless. The boy in the tree becomes very still and Cato's screams stop. A cannon goes off, and it's not very apparent who the victor is, neither tribute looks alive, I vaguely wonder if the game makers accidentally killed both of the remaining tributes.

* * *

The next day my mother grumpily complains at the breakfast table that she lost a bet with her friend because she said Cato would win, but he didn't. Knowing the boy won puts a small smile on my face, that I try to hide, because everyone in my family is disappointed that Cato bleed out first. I begin looking forward to the victor's tour, because at the party I get to meet the blue-eyed boy. I realize I still don't know his name, "What is the victor's name?"

My mother is still too grumpy and sulky to respond, Prim offers a small shrug, my father says, "Starts with a D maybe?"

_Thanks for the help_ I think.  
The next months pass slowly, everything scheduled for every minute as usual. And eventually it is the morning of the victor's party at the presidents mansion where I can meet the victor (and learn his name.)

* * *

"Good morning dear," Vapor walks into my room with her signature swaying hips, a dress bag thrown over her shoulder. Vapor dyed her skin pale blue a few days ago when "stylistic water" became the new trend. She added darker blues in swirls near her eyes and cheeks, with silver accents, and lips; her hair which is a silvery blue tumbles in soft waves down to her waist. Her dress looks like water, that is to say to moves in a flowing way, and is every shade of blue combined in the most elegant way. She really does look extra pretty today, and I let her know, putting a limited smile on her face, limited because she cannot crack the make-up she's worked so carefully on. I try to sneak a peak in the dress bag she hung in my walk in closest, but her pale blue hand slides in and slaps my hand off of the zipper. She sashays to run my bath and I wonder about what is inside the bag, usually I'm given options of what to wear, but because today is a special day we have time constraints.  
I lay into my bath, laying my head back so Vapor can apply my make-up, while a machine threads shampoo and conditioner into my locks, as another massages my body and rubs soap, sugar, and body butter onto me, making me nice and smooth. I've fallen asleep before this whole proceeder before, but it that happens I get scolded, so I've learnt to enjoy the warm water and the feeling of powders, paints, and gels on my face. Besides it's not so bad, the worst is my two week waxings, where every inch of my skin, (excluding the top of my head, eyebrows, and eyelashes; though once it was in fashion to have a hairless face, so off the eyebrows went) is lathered with sticky wax and then fabric pulls off all the hair, I remember my first treatment at age seven.  
The bath drains and I feel warm air blow into my hair, gently as to not ruin my new face. After my hair is dry I feel Vapor run creams, mousses and brushes through it, at the end she sprays more product, making sure my hair won't budge.  
Now I get put into my dress, I can see if is made of dark blue fabric and pearls, an absurd amount of beautiful pearls. It is the most gorgeous thing I have ever seen, and I get to wear it. I step into the dress and Vapor pulls it up over my shoulders and zips me in. Lastly she threads a headpiece into my hair, it is the same midnight blue color as my dress.  
I walk with practiced slowness to my mirror that wraps in a way that allows me to see every inch of my body. My breath is completely taken away.  
My make-up is a work of an artist, the small pearls that line my eyes connect up to my head piece, and there are two pieces of dark sapphires, lined with pearls that have been placed over my eyebrows. The make-up is striking in the midnight blue that lines the inside of my pearls, and the underneath. Between the top row of pearls and the sapphires there is blue-gray shadowing. My lips are midnight blue. The front part of my dark hair is pulled back, half up, it tumbles in curls down my back. I look down to my dress, it has long shimmering blue sleeves, and falls in beautiful, pearl lined ruffles."You're an artist," I tell Vapor in all seriousness.  
"Oh it's nothing," she says modestly as she packs her cremes and powders and lipsticks. "I hope you have fun tonight dear." and with that she leaves.  
I spend the next few minutes admiring my dress and make-up in the mirror, before remember that tonight is the night that I'll be meeting the victor from 12. I realize I still don't know his name, wondering how that could be. Now that I'm conscious that I'll be meeting him a tight knot builds in my stomach, I want to sink to the floor but my dress allows for very limited movement, so I settle with pacing. I'm still pacing when Prim walks into my room, as I've forgotten to come down for breakfast. I follow my little sister down to our table, and have the realization that I really can't do anything but stand and walk in the dress. I eat standing up.  
The rest of the day idles by but it also seems to go by with the blink of an eye, that's the thing about nervousness, it contorts time. Eventually, the time comes to maneuver into the car, and then the time comes to get out of the car and walk into the party. I wonder if he's here yet, I twist my head, looking, hoping. My search is interrupted by Gale, who asks me if I'd like to dance, I accept even though I'd rather keep looking. Gale really is an excellent dancer, like me he had lessons when he was growing up, as does almost every child here. We do stop spinning and twirling gracefully after a few minutes, when my father interrupts, saying there is someone he'd like me to meet. My breath catches in anticipation as he leads me around the party, I finally breathe again when he introduces me to a lady named Effie Trinket, I vaguely remember her, but I can't place my finger in it.  
"Effie Trinket," she sticks out her hand, "District 12 escort,"  
I say "Oh!" before I can stop myself, she's the boy's escort. I quickly recompose myself, as I shake her hand I say "Katniss Everdeen," I don't have a title other than that but feeling a bit lame I add, "Nice to meet you,"  
"Yes, yes! It's nice to meet you too,"  
"This is the young lady that saved your boy's life!" my father says proudly, glad I picked the boy who would become the victor to save. I tune out the rest of their conversation, continuing looking for Effie's victor, but I try my best to smile and nod. They let me leave eventually, and I wander alone for a while, starting to believe that boy didn't show up to his own victor party. I'm eating a bit of goat cheese when I spot him, standing by himself, which I find odd, most people trip over themselves trying to talk to the victor. I wonder how to go about approaching him, when Prim takes that worry away from me. Her and Rose walk up to the boy in the most confident of manners, and start talking to him, I try to watch discreetly, making myself busy looking at the different types of cheese. Out of the corner of my eye I see him laughing, he looks much more at ease now then five minutes ago. Another minute passes and then Prim snakes her way over to me, I still pretend to be oblivious. "You have to meet him!" she grabs my wrist and pulls me through the crowd, no small feet considering the diameter of my dress is five feet. "Peeta Mellark, Katniss Everdeen! Katniss Everdeen, Peeta Mellark!" then she and Rose run off.  
Peeta Mellark. That's his name, I've finally learnt his name after all this time. I like it, Peeta.  
"Hi," I say a bit shyly, knowing him on a screen was one thing, seeing him in person was a completely different thing, a nerve racking thing.  
"Hey," he gives me a smile, that makes my heart flutter in my chest.  
Feeling short of breath I inhale deeply before talking again, "Quite a party huh? And all for you,"  
He laughs, and I decide it's my new favorite sound. "That's exactly what Effie said leading me into here, Effie's my escort."  
I nod not sure where to go next, I'm not good with words, "Have you ate?" I try meekly to keep up the flow of conversation.  
"Oh yeah, tons, I'm stuffed." I don't suggest he drinks a flute to throw up, something tells me he'd react in a similar manner to Finnick and Johanna. I'm about to excuse myself, and give up on talking to him, when he extends his hand to me, "Would you like to dance?" I accept his hand without a second thought and he leads me to the dance floor. Dancing with Peeta is not as graceful as dancing with Gale, Peeta's not a bad dancer, he's just not as trained, I like it. "So Katniss," he smiles when he says my name, "what do you do for fun here?"  
Fun? Fun. Hm. Most of my days are scheduled down to the minute. "I like to hang out with my little sister Prim," I realize it sounds a little lame after saying it.  
"Prim, she's who introduced us right?" I nod, and he laughs, "She's quite the girl, very energetic, I can see why she'd be good company."  
"How about you? What do you do for fun back in District 12?"  
"Oh, we don't have much time for fun," he pauses for a moment, "Well actually, I guess now I do have time for fun, since they've given me everything I need for the rest of my life. In that case, I like to bake, and paint."  
"What do you paint?"  
"Oh anything that comes to mind," I feel like there's more he's not letting me into.  
"How about baking?"

"Decorating the cakes is my favorite," I imagine the lavishly decorated cakes that I see often at weddings and birthdays and parties. I decide his are probably better decorated. "What is it like, living here?"  
"Scheduled," I answer honestly. "What's it like, living there?"  
He thinks for a minute, "There's a lot of bad, and very little good, but what is good, that stuff shines brighter than the darkest days."  
I like his answer.  
We dance around a bit clumsily for a few more minutes, my dress is probably the fault of the clumsiness, it's hard to dance well when your dress extends a handful of feet away from your body. Eventually we're interrupted because President Snow has a speech to make, in Peeta's honor.  
Afterwards Peeta and I are free to continue talking, although we're interrupted often by people that want to meet him. The night is winding down to a close when I realize how much I don't want it to, I enjoy talking to Peeta. Then the last person I'd want to interrupt us does, Gale, he tells me my mother is looking for me, my family is preparing to leave, I ask him to tell them I'll be there in a minute. He bumps into my shoulder (accidentally, I hope) as he goes to look for my family. A pearl comes loose from one of the ruffles, I watch it fall, before Peeta's hand snatches it out of mid air, his eyes meet mine, and he smiles bashfully,  
"For you," he straightens up, and opens his hand.  
"Thank you," I pinch the pearl between my fingers, meeting his eyes.  
"Peeta!" a shrill impatient voice comes out of nowhere, ruining our moment. It's Peeta's escort, Effie. "I told you to be down waiting for your car at midnight sharp!" I look for a clock, it's 12:30, whoops. "Doesn't anyone have any regard for scheduling?" she sounds very distraught.  
"Sorry Effie," he doesn't sound sorry at all, in fact it looks like he's laughing at her scheduling obsession, which is a common obsession here in the Capitol.  
"Well come on!" she walks away, towards the long line of cars waiting to pick up their riders. "Shall we?" he offers me his arm, and I accept. We walk slowly, partially because of my dress again, and partially because we (or me at least) don't want the night to end. When we reach the cars I blurt out,  
"Can we hang out again?" which is unheard of, because the only time Capitol residents and anyone from the districts mix is at a special party, such as tonight.  
"Sure," he smiles easily, not showing on his face how odd my request is, "I'd like that," I'm pulled off into my car as he's pulled into his, I wave to him, and he waves back.

* * *

That night I find it hard to sleep, my entire body filled with warmth as I replay all of our conversations over and over again in my head and roll the pearl he rescued for me between my hands. Making the task of sleep even more impossible is when I begin to think of when I'd see him again, hopefully sooner rather than later.

_I hope everyone liked the chapter! Now that they've met each other their relationship will get more interesting, and soon Katniss will seem more Katniss-y, because I realize she's a little ooc. Please review! -MGB_


	3. Chapter 3

Figuring out how to see Peeta again was difficult, and had time restraints, he'd be on the train back to District 12 in three days. But I didn't really want to think about that right now, no, I'd rather look forward to spending time with him.  
"Hey, mom?" I ask at dinner,  
"Yes dear?" I don't know why she has to call me dear all of the time.  
"Would it be alright if I hung out with a friend tomorrow night?"

"Hmm," she chews slowly, thoughtfully, probably imagining my schedule for tomorrow in her head, moving things around. "I think that would be okay,"  
I think I've gotten home free when she throws in, "Who do you want to hang out with?"  
"Oh, um," I try to come up with a plausible excuse, "A boy, I met him last night at the party, he was cool,"  
"You don't remember his name?" her brows push together, and Prim looks at me questioningly.  
"Oh no, it's.. Viscose," I wince at my fake name choice, Viscose would typically be a girl's name.  
"Oh yes," my mother nods seriously, "His mother is that new game maker, Taffeta Maes... I think she wanted a daughter." I find it amusing how my mother goes along with my made up boy, just to seem in the know.  
"Yeah, we had a good time and I promised we could hang out again soon."  
"A good time?" I'm starting to not like the excited smile on her face, "Do you like him? ... Of course he's not as good in social standing as Gale but a game maker's son has promise..." That last part she said to herself, probably planning a wedding.  
"No!" I remember my manners, and the fact I need my mother to let me go tomorrow night, I go on calmly, "No, we're just friends," this part is a half lie, half truth, lie because Viscose doesn't exist, truth because Peeta and I are just friends.  
"Alright, well yes, tomorrow sounds fine for your date,"  
"It's not a date," I whisper to my plate.

* * *

The next morning Vapor walks into my room, a bit too excitedly,  
"I hear you have a date tonight!"  
"It's not a date!" I groan.  
"Sure, sure, whatever you say!"  
I take a deep breath to calm myself, allowing her to take over my beautification, "Oh wait, do natural make-up today please." I doubt Peeta likes the over the top look, seems it's only a Capitol preference.  
"Don't you think Viscose would like a little color?" Vapor looks longingly at her eye shadow pallet.  
"I want to try something different,"  
"Being risky, huh?" Vapor smiles again, happy with my fake boldness. Regardless she still puts diamonds on the corners of my eyes.  
When Vapor shows me to my three clothing options I blush, she picked out perhaps the most exposing outfits possible. The first is a skin tight black leotard, with a see through white skirt, the second is a pair of what looks like a nude colored bikini bottom, and a bra, with so many diamonds it's a wonder how all of the stones fit onto the small pieces of fabric. The third is a silver jumpsuit, that glitters in the light, I go with that one. "You're so modest Katniss!" Vapor sighs as if this fact troubles her. "Don't you think Viscose would like you in this?" She dances the bathing suit around in the air,

"He's my friend!" I snap, exasperated now. Vapor holds her hands up in mock 'don't shoot' before helping me into the silver outfit.

* * *

I spend the rest day like I spent the day yesterday, excited to see Peeta again, but unexplainably nervous. When the time comes for me to leave my mother and Prim follow me to the car, my mother sprays perfume behind my ears, reminding me to act in a lady-like manner tonight, while Prim rubs pink lipstick onto my lips, insisting I need some color. Finally I get bustled into the black leather interior and the door is shut behind me, cloaking me in darkness. I take what feels like my first breath all day. My mother arranged a reservation at the most exclusive restaurant in the Capitol, how she found two open seats was a wonder to me, you have to plan months or years in advance to get a seat at Surmené. Irregardless I'm dropped off an see Peeta waiting for me, in a sports jacket, and realize this probably looks like a date. I wonder if he thinks that's what this is. I wonder if I would like that.  
"Katniss," he smiles,  
"Hi,"  
"Hi," he smiles again, "Shall we go in?" I realize he's moved a few steps away, while I was glued to the spot, he extends his arm for me to take. We walk arm in arm into the restaurant, "A reservation for Everdeen," he says politely to the young hostess,

"Right this way," she shows us to a table, and hands us two menus, she leaves and silence settles around us awkwardly, not surprising considering I've never hung out with a boy like Peeta alone, and considering he must be very out of his element.  
"The anniversary chicken sounds good," I offer my feeble attempt at conversation, Peeta slaps his menu closed, I look at him questioningly.  
"You're right, everything here sounds amazing, so good I couldn't possibly choose, so I'll let you order for me."  
"Oh uh, okay," his confidence in my choice makes me unexplainably nervous, but when the waiter comes back I order myself the chicken and Peeta lamb stew, which is my favorite, I figure he should try it sometime in his life. The waiter asks if we would like any wine, glancing to Peeta he raises his eyebrows to say, "your call," I ask instead for two hot chocolates, so much for an elegant dinner.  
"Hot chocolate? What's that like?"  
"You've never had hot chocolate?" he shakes his head, "You're going to love it," I promise. Our waiter, who's name I've forgotten, comes back with a basket of bread and our drinks as I finish my vow, he lets us know our food will be out in a moment.  
"Thank you," Peeta nods to him.  
"Here!" I giddily push his hot drink into his hand, a little bit falls onto his sport coat but he doesn't seem to mind. After he takes a sip he just says, "Hot," which makes me laugh, "Sorry I always forget you have to wait a bit for it to cool down." he sets his drink aside, allowing it to steam its heat into the air.  
"I'll forgive you," he says, "So Ms. Katniss Everdeen, I still don't really know much about you, or why we're here."  
"Hm," I look into my hot chocolate, stirring it, "What do you want to know?" I raise my gaze to meet his astonishingly blue eyes.  
"What are your five favorite things?"  
"Five favorite things... One- the color that filters through the plants in our garden, two- my little sister, Prim, three-" I need a moment to think, I could say, "how blue your eyes are," or "the sound of your laughter," but I decide against both, "lamb stew, four- having a free day, and five- my parents," I decide to throw them in there, feeling it was polite, "in no particular order," I add as an after thought, if I had to order my a-z list Prim would come before the green light I love to sit under in our garden.  
"What's a free day?" he asks, sipping his now cooled hot chocolate.  
"A very rare occasion, a day where I can do what I want without a schedule." he nods thoughtfully, "How about you? Your five favorite things?"  
"One- the smell of bread baking, two- sunsets, three- my family, four- being here, with you, five- hot chocolate," I want to laugh at his last one, but my mind is stuck on the fourth, "In no particular order," he adds.  
"What are your five least favorite things?"  
"You're a bit pessimistic, and I don't think I'm at liberty to say my five least favorite things, they're kinda a downer." our waiter sets down our plates just then, warning us that they're hot, while we're waiting for them to cool Peeta dips a bit of bread into his drink,  
"What are you doing?" I ask,  
"Isn't this why they're served together?" he dips again, "So you can have bread with hot chocolate?"  
"Uh, no," it comes off a bit rude, so I backpedal, taking a piece of bread I follow Peeta's lead and dip it into my drink, I say, "Looks good though," before popping the chocolate soaked bread into my mouth. I notice some incredulous stares coming our way, soggy chocolate bread was not polite, and had no place at an establishment such as this one, I shrug them off.  
"Well I think it's time to see wether or not you suck at choosing dinner dishes," he spoons some lamb stew into his mouth, and I watch, there's something venerable about saying "this is my favorite thing," and then seeing someone judge it for themselves. "Excellent, I can see why it's on your top five favorites list, it might be on mine now too, right above hanging out with you,"  
"You said there was no particular order," I remind him, trying to not blush, but failing.  
"I changed my mind,"  
"So why do you like hanging out with me so much? You must have many more interesting friends back home,"  
"I spend most of the time in my family's bakery, so usually I hang out with my brothers. You don't have any brothers, right?" I shake my head, "Well, brothers don't make the best friends, they're kinda assholes."  
"Rose's brother is pretty nice to her,"  
"That sweet little girl? Even my brothers would be nice to a little girl like that,"  
"Fair enough,"  
"May I ask why I didn't make your favorite five list," he says it with a light, teasing, rhetorical voice, but I decide to answer him anyways,  
"I was going to put your laugh and your eyes on my list, above my parents even," and God bless Peeta, because he doesn't ask why I didn't put him on my original list or how he's made it above my parents, he just says,  
"You said no particular order,"  
I smirk "I lied."

* * *

At the end of dinner gather our things, and almost run out of the restaurant, earning some dirty looks. We see my car we pile in the back. We both decided that hanging out would be more fun without the surveillance of other Capitol residents. "I hate schedules and snobby people," I declare, and slap my hand over my mouth, saying things like that is looked down upon in the Capitol. I then remember there's no one here to monitor or care about my truthful rude words. Peeta nods his head in agreement,  
"One day I'll make sure you never have a scheduled day again," Peeta vows,  
"That's an awfully big promise to make,"  
"I never break a promise," he looks at me earnestly and my heart flutters, I bite my lip, a little troubled that Peeta and I will have a hard time having un-scheduled days when he is on the other side of the country.  
Regardless of my future worries, we continue with our flirty banter, when he starts to tickle me. If there's one thing I hate, it's being tickled, it would go on my five least favorites list. My hands and legs start thrashing, and against my will, my foot connects with his jaw. _Way to kill the mood_ I think to myself as Peeta rubs his jaw, "I'm so sorry!" I say breathily, unable to help the smile rising to my mouth, I try to hold back my laughs, unsuccessfully.  
"You've got quite the kick," he jokes,  
"Pilates," I admit.  
"Should have known," he makes fun of himself in an endearing way.  
"It is simply abominable that you did not posses that knowledge," I say faux haughtily, making sure my natural accent in thicker than usual.  
"How un-cultured of me," he laughs, as we pull in my garage,  
"Come on, I'll show you my room," I wince at my words as soon as they leave my mouth, realizing how suggestive they sound,  
"Is there anyone home I should meet before you lock me away in your bedroom?" he has a good point, although in my mind it's the opposite, is there anyone home he _shouldn't_ meet? A District 12 boy, even if he is a victor, is not what either of my parents would imagine for their daughter, after all they were disappointed by the aspect of a game maker's son.  
"No, I think my parents are at dinner, Prim is at Rose's."  
"Then please, lead the way," I do, we walk with tense electricity between each other, our hands brush occasionally.  
"Here it is," I open my double doors to my all white room, I had wanted green, but my mother insisted this was more refined.  
"Wow,"  
"Elegant huh?" I roll my eyes, before realizing how ungrateful I probably sound.  
"It doesn't seem very.. you," I like that Peeta can see that fake perfectness is not me, regardless of the fact we met only yesterday. I have a preference for the natural things more than the artificial man made products that my home is so famous for.  
"I wanted green,"  
"I'll paint you a million green rooms,"  
"You're making an awful lot of promises tonight," I tease, even though the thought of him decorating me a room of my preference makes my heart swell.  
"And I intend on keeping every single one of them," I look down bashfully, smiling at the ground. I hear Peeta move over to my bed, and fall onto it with a sigh. I look over and he's spread out as much as possible, I walk over and lay next to him, we descend into a comfortable silence for a few minutes, until Peeta asks, "What would be your perfect day?"  
"I'd wake up, not at five in the morning, and I wouldn't have to get my make-up and hair done for hours, I could wear sweat pants. Then I could have breakfast with my family, and we could laugh and not talk about money or jewels, have a real conversation. After I'd spend time with Prim, I really need to spend more time with her. Other than that, spend time with my friends, and have lamb stew for dinner." he nods, "What would be yours?"  
"I've already had my perfect day," he says it with all the vagueness in the world, it could be today or yesterday or a random day years ago, and I would never know. We fall back into our silence, just enjoying each other's presence. I like that about Peeta, we don't have to talk about anything, everyone else here in the Capitol feels the need to fill every moment with talk of fashion, or money, or gossip. After a while a question comes to my mind, I flip so I'm laying on my stomach,  
"Why did you agree to hang out with me today? I mean we met just yesterday."  
"Because I liked you," his answer frustrates me, that's the only requirement? He'll hang out with anyone after only a few hours of talking?  
"What does that mean? You liked me? What kind of reason is that?" he remains laying on his back staring at the ceiling, "Peeta!" finally he looks at me, he flips on his stomach and looks at me straight in the eyes, for so long that it becomes uncomfortable, before speaking again.  
"Yes, because I liked you. I liked your personality, how you could talk of something that was actually important, not just about materials. I liked how you tripped over your own two feet on your way to the dessert table, I like how you could tell me how you felt about the place you call home, with disregard to how it would come off. I like how the color of your eyes match your personality, if that makes sense. I like how when we danced you laughed when I would screw up, unlike those who scowled at me. I do love when you scowl when I tease you," this merits a scowl, which makes him laugh, "I like how expressive you are, and finally, I like how I'll get to discover more about you, I'll get to memorize your laugh and your favorite things, what makes you smile, and what makes you sad, and what you want to do with your future, and what you first think about in the morning, and what keeps you up at night, that's why I agreed to see you again today." It would have been the perfect moment to kiss me. But he doesn't.

"I guess that's a good reason." I allow, begrudgingly, he laughs.

* * *

Walking Peeta to my front door two hours later I have a feeling of such joy from the time we spent together that I can't help but smile foolishly, my heart feels like warm gold in my chest and I can scarcely remember a time I was this happy. I don't want the night to end, but Peeta must get back to his life. _His life on the other side of the country,_ that thought puts a small cloud over my gold feeling heart, but not enough to eclipse it. Peeta and I will see each other again, it's inevitable. When we reach the part of the night where he has to go I expect him to lean down and give me a kiss, but he selfishly keeps his lips to himself. "Good night, Katniss Everdeen," he says softly, and before I can reply, or ask when we can see each other again he slips out of my house. Peeta Mellark has put me into quite the spin. Our date was so unlike every other date I had had prior. We laughed, talked about silly things, stupid things, serious things; he tickled me, I didn't have to worry about being lady-like with him, we didn't kiss. The lack of a goodnight kiss annoyed me a little bit. Why didn't he kiss me before he left? That's what every other guy I'd been out with had done, but the only one I really liked hadn't given me the giddy sensation of when you know your lips are just seconds from kissing a boy you really like. Ugh. Regardless, kiss or no kiss, Peeta keeps me up for several hours after I ready for bed, I lay on my light as air bed, feeling light as air myself. The gold inside of me is threatening to drag me up to the literal clouds. I hug my pillows, smile into, and eventually, dream into them, about the next time I will see Peeta.

_I came up with (what I think is) a really good storyline for CCL, so I won't be writing aimlessly anymore, I have a set point I need to get to! I forgot to say this last time, but thank you so much for all the reviews, favorites, and follows, I love all of you, and it brings me (gold hearted) joy to have people enjoy my work. -MGB_


	4. Chapter 4

Peeta and I sneak around my family (he does so unknowingly) whenever he visits, which is surprisingly often. I supposed I never noticed Finnick or Johanna visiting, but apparently victors are free to travel where they please.  
On what would become one of our last afternoons Peeta joins me in my garden, he seems flustered, which is unusual for him. His hands are clenched in fists, the skin over his knuckles is white and pulled tight.  
"What is it?" I ask. He takes a deep breath, and releases the tension from his body,"It's nothing, nothing you need to be worrying about,"  
"Well, yes," I say a little annoyed, my eyebrows coming together, "it's something I need to be worrying about, it's obviously upsetting you,"  
"Katniss," he sighs, obviously trying to get me to forget it.  
"Peeta," I mock back, he shoots me a look.  
"Look, I had a meeting with President Snow before I came here, you know how I feel about him," I nod, thinking about that. I have known Snow my entire life, and he is always very nice to me, although that's probably because of who my father is.  
"What if I ask him to leave you alone-"  
"No," Peeta cuts me off firmly, "No, I can handle it, I don't need you to fight my battles,"  
"I wouldn't say I was trying to fight your battles, but fine, I'll drop it,"  
"Thanks," he says tensely.  
"What should we do tonight?" I try to change the subject,  
"Whatever you want,"  
I sigh, do boys always do that? You ask what they want, and they don't answer, they just say "Whatever you want," if I knew what I wanted I would have said "Hey, let's do this tonight!"  
Eventually I do come up with an idea, "I've never seen you bake anything,"  
"You want me to bake you something?"  
"But I want to watch," I clarify. Peeta smiles and all the stiffness left over from our Snow conversation has gone and we're back to our normal dynamic.  
"Where's the kitchen?" I stand and grab his hand, leading him to the rarely used room."What do you want me to make?"  
"Whatever you want," I give him his earlier response, hoping it drives him as crazy as it drives me.  
"I'll make you cheese buns," his quick response shows it doesn't bug him, I'll admit him not being annoyed miffs me a little.  
"I've never had those before,"  
"That's because made them up,"  
"In that case, they probably suck."  
"I bet you'll love them,"  
"I'll take that bet,"  
Peeta starts searching through cabinets and the pantries and fridge for his ingredients and utensils, I'd help him, but I'm as clueless as him. The only time I come in here is when I want a bowl of ice cream at midnight, and have to sneak around my mother, who would berate me about how my face will bloat and my clothing won't fit properly and a ton of other shit I couldn't be bothered to care about. "I can't believe you have this entire kitchen and you never come in here," his comment makes me feel guilty, even though his words didn't have any deeper meaning.  
"I suck at baking," I shrug, watching his measure and mix ingredients.  
"It's not hard, I could teach you,"  
"I think you just want me to help so I mess up your cheese buns and you have a verifiable excuse as to why they suck."  
"You'll be eating your words soon, and your tenth cheese bun."  
"If I finish more than one I'll assume they're drugged,"  
"You've figured out my secret ingredient," he kneads his dough, which he made astonishingly fast, before throwing it into a bowl and placing a towel over it, "Needs to rise," he explains.  
"For how long?"  
"A half hour,"  
"So the drugs can start to kick in?"  
"Exactly,"  
"So what do you think we can do for thirty minutes?" I ask suggestively, "I have an idea," he then lunges for me, and begins tickling me.  
"No!" I scream, but he continues right on, "No, that's not what I meant!" I'm laughing but I feel like I'm about to cry. I push on his chest, trying to get him away from me, to no avail. I try my next tactic and fall to the floor, pretending to be hurt. "Peeta, please! I hit my head, it hurts!" he falls for it (how did he win the Hunger Games?) and gets off of me,  
"Do you need some ice?" he moves to the freezer, and I make my escape, sprinting away from him, and up to my room. He catches up to me as I try to shut my door, but he presses against it, not allowing it to close, eventually he does get in. Having no where to run Peeta picks me up and throws me on my bed, then starts tickling me again.  
"Peeta," I whine again, "Can't we use my bed for something better?" I offer, hoping it will work,  
"Nope!" he smiles wickedly and I realize he is laughing at me. After agonizing minutes I mange to wiggle out from under him, slamming the door behind me as I run to the marble grand stair case. I hear him behind me and start to run down the stairs. I am only down a few steps before my legs slip from under me, and I somersaulting down the slippery stone, this time I really do hit my head.  
"Goddammit!" My eyes are a little blurry but when I focus them I see Peeta, squatting next to me, his eyes swim with worry.  
"Katniss? Are you okay? Come on let's get you ice." he stands and offers his hand to me. I accept the help up because I'm a little dizzy and my head is already throbbing. I keep ahold of his arm, letting him lead me, because I might fall flat on my face if I don't. Once in the kitchen Peeta sits me down at the counter stool before moving to the freezer. I hear him say, "Even better than ice," and curiously stretch my neck to see what he has, which turn out to be peas.  
"You're going to make me peas so my head will feel better?"  
"No, frozen peas are a great substitute for ice,"  
"Why can't I just use ice? Putting peas on my head is weird,"  
"Trust me, it'll be fine. I'm surprised you've never done this before,"  
"Well being a proper lady doesn't merit much running, and therefore falling is out of the picture too," I set the pea bag on my head, it does feel nice, but I'll bet I look ridiculous. If I do Peeta doesn't say anything, he just moves to check his bread, it's almost done he muses.  
"I'm really sorry about your head," I can tell he's sincere, "If I hadn't chased you-"  
"It's fine, I'm clumsy anyways, it was bound to happen eventually," I wave him off, downplaying my throbbing head.  
"But-"  
"I'm fine," I say firmly, to prove my point I remove the bag of peas, and set it on the counter. The pain in my head increases without the cold pressure, but I'll live. "When will the bread be ready to go in the oven?"  
"Just a minute or two now," Peeta looks uncertain about my nonchalant attitude.  
"How long do they bake for?"  
"Ten minutes," He checks on the dough again as he speaks, and deems it oven ready. He divides it and places it on baking sheets before sticking the buns in the oven. "Okay, now we have to find a basket, and a blanket."  
"Those would be up in my room," I carefully walk up the stairs, holding the rail. I find a basket full of lotions that I dump out onto my bathroom floor, while I'm in there I find my pills for pain relief, and down three for my head. Then I take the white blanket from my bed. By the time I'm getting back to the kitchen my head has stopped pulsating and Peeta has taken the buns out of the oven, and it kills me to admit they smell amazing. Peeta takes my basket, and places a towel inside, then the bread,  
"Where's the best place for a sunset dinner?"  
"We're having bread for dinner?" I raise my eyebrows,  
"Yes, remember, you're going to eat ten? You'll be so stuffed you'll never want food again,"  
"More like I'll be so drugged,"  
"Just pick a place for us to eat," I decide to take him to my favorite place, the garden. We go out a side door near my kitchen, and I lead him to an open patch of grass that can't be seen unless you know it's there. I lay out the blanket, letting Peeta know this is our destination, we sit and I eagerly reach for the bread, momentarily forgetting our bet. "Seems like just the smell of the drugs have already effected you." I roll my eyes,  
"Shut up," then I take a bite of the bun, with Peeta's eyes watching me intently. The taste is so delectable they instantly become my new favorite food,  
"What do you think?"  
"They place number two on my five favorite things list, before lamb stew, and you, but behind Prim,"  
"I'll only be offended if I'm behind lamb stew on that list,"  
"I guess you're better than lamb stew, but only because you make the number two cheese buns." by now I'm half way through my second bun, and I notice Peeta hasn't started eating, "Aren't you gong to have some?"  
"Nah I try not to make it a habit to eat drugged food," I slap him lightly on the arm, and try to hand him one, "Really Katniss, I made them for you,"  
"There must be thirty buns in here, I'm not going to starve if you eat some,"  
"Then keep them for later, give them to your family, by the way I still haven't met them,"  
"I know, they're busy. And you did meet Prim." I say, I don't really want to explain to my family where all the bread came from, and I can't eat thirty buns by myself. "Just eat a damn bun Peeta," when Peeta still doesn't take a bun I take matters into my own hands, I quickly move over to him, and before he can realize what I'm doing I push him onto his back and straddle his chest, "Eat the bread!" I know Peeta could easily get my off him if he wanted, but he indulges in my little game. I press the food against his lips, which are pressed tightly together but are still smiling. "Peeta," I try to make my voice as menacing as possible. He sighs and opens his mouth, accepting a bite of the now smushed bread. "Thank you," I give him a kiss before getting off of him and resuming my place next to him.  
"I hope you never have children if that's how to react to someone not eating," he rubs is chest in faux-hurt way. I roll my eyes at his dramatics,  
"If you hadn't been such a baby I would have had to do that."  
"Now I've been drugged to,"  
"Good,"  
"You made me spill the bread basket," I look over and see the buns scattered along my blanket, some landed on the grass. I pick up the food and see grease stains where the buns just were,  
"Shit, my mother is going to kill me," I mutter to myself, I don't really care about the blanket, I can get another one made. But when my mother sees the grease she'll start asking questions, and eventually find out about Peeta, because I am not a good lier or actress, it's shocking I've made it this far with no suspicion. Peeta takes the grassy buns and throws them over one of the hedges that encloses us. I hope they land out of the garden and not near my house, so an animal can eat the evidence and so my mother won't be embarrassed by random bread through her house.  
"So what do I get for winning our bet?"  
"Huh?" I ask, still a bit preoccupied by my mother worries.  
"I won our bet, so I get something,"  
"Well what do you want?"  
"I can think of something," he smiles before leaning in to kiss me, he tangles his hands into my hair and I scoot closer to him. His lips taste like cheese buns, and I'm sure mine do too, the thought makes me smile into the kiss. He bites my lower lip before running his tongue over it, we continue kissing for a few more minutes before he moves down to my neck, sucking on my skin. He moves at a maddeningly slow pace, and I can tell there will be a trail of purple bruises along my neck and collarbones. Eventually he returns to my lips, his hands traveling from my hips to my waist. I pull off his shirt, and throw it behind him. He has a particularly big scar across his chest, I run my fingers along it, wondering where it came from. He watches my hand, I look up at him and I am soon met with his gaze again.  
Peeta's hands wrap around my back, and in one fluid motion we're both up, him standing, and me in his arms. He carries me inside while I kiss his neck, making bruises to match mine. He sits down with me straddling him in the foyer sitting room, which is really only for decoration but I don't care. His had reaches up and tucks my dark hair behind my ear, and say "You're so beautiful," which makes me blush and look down. His thumb slides under my chin and tilts my head up, "You are," he smiles, before bringing his lips against mine once again. My entire body is on fire and I want to get closer to him in anyway possible, I reach for my dress's hem and pull it up and over my head, throwing the material away. I go back to kissing him, convinced I know know what pure happiness is, when I hear a small gasp. I disregard it, Peeta and I are the only two people in the house right now; Peeta on the other hand, pulls away, which annoys me. I open my eyes, and they land on Prim, standing in the doorway, "Prim! What are you doing home? You're supposed to be at Rose's..." I try the cover myself with my dress.  
"I was, I mean, I am, I'm going back, I just forgot Sanders," she holds up the silky stuffed bunny in her hand, who she can't sleep without. I press my lips together an nod, not sure what to say to my little sister, who still sleeps with a stuffed animal, who also just walked in on me sitting almost naked on a half naked boy's lap, in the middle of making out.  
"This is Peeta," I finally say, Peeta gives a small wave,  
"We've met, at the victory tour,"  
"Right, you introduced us,"  
"Right." she gives a small nod.  
Another pause.  
"Well I'm going to go, Rose is waiting in the car..."  
"Have fun tonight," I call out as she leaves, when I hear the door close I groan and push my very hot, and I can bet, very red face into Peeta's chest. His hand rub circles into my back, but I can feel his body shake with silent laughter. I pull away of him, to see him failing to suppress a smile, and his eyes dance with laughter. "It's not funny!" I snap, removing his arm from my back, and swinging my legs off of him.  
"I'm sorry," he controls his smile only a little bit, and tries to slide my legs back over his, which I allow, albeit stubbornly. "Katniss," he sighs, kind of like my mother, "I'm sorry, you're cute when you're embarrassed." I roll my eyes, and continue on scowling, making him smile again.  
"I don't think you understand, Prim doesn't, or anyone in my family, know about you!"  
"Wait, what?" his smiles fades, "You haven't told them about me? About us?" Whoops, I left that part out to Peeta. I lead him to believe my family was super busy, and therefore never home when he visited, rather than the truth: I carefully plan his visits for when my family has important events. "Katniss?" I look down to my hands,  
"No," I say so softly, he may not have heard me, I don't think he did until he asks,  
"Why?" he sounds confused, not angry.  
Then the horrible words that remind us both of my social status over his tumble out my mouth, "My parents had me set to marry the president's son, they still think I will, and if they knew about you..." I speak very quickly, wanting to get the horrible truth out of my mouth before trailing off, hot waves of shame fill my entire body.  
"Me, a poor District 12 boy," he fills in the blanks I left.  
"But I don't care about any of that," I touch his face and I grasp how much I mean those words at the very moment I speak them, no one, not my parents, or Prim, or Gale, or the goddamned president could make me care about Peeta's background, all I care about is his present, and future.  
"But your parents, sister, friends, they all do,"  
"They don't matter,"  
"Don't say that," he shakes his head, as if I actually pained him with my words.  
"Why not? You're who I care about, if they don't see that... if they can't respect that..."  
"Then what? What are you going to do Katniss?" he drops my hand, "Get punished by your parents over a boy you met a month ago? Have your friends whisper about you behind your back?" I think his words over, I never really considered what my parents would do if they found out about Peeta, all I knew was they wouldn't be happy.  
"I don't care," I protest again, which makes him shake his head again,  
"I care, I care about you and I can't rip you away from your family, and friends, and life."  
"So I can do what? Grow up and never really live? Have every moment of the rest of my life planned for me? That's not how I envision my future."  
"Katniss," he whispers sadly.  
I suddenly get the acute sensation of being all alone. Forever. Despite Peeta being inches from my face, despite his hands holding my bare back, despite feeling his heartbeat under my hand that lays on his chest. The feeling makes me dizzy and dread flows through my entire body, starting with my heart then to my stomach then to my toes. My vision blurs and I can feel myself swaying. "You're going to leave me?" I ask, I can feel a tear slide down my face. After my time with Peeta, as short as it was, I know I can't go back to the scheduled proper life I was leading before. I don't want my parents to decide the rest of my life for me, I don't want to marry for status, then live my life in the same monotonous way my mother does. I don't want to raise children the same was I was raised. I cannot do any of that. I will not. Peeta doesn't have a real answer for me, but I know what he's thinking, Yes, for your own good, Katniss, because I love you, I have to let you live your life. "Can't you see it's not for my own good?" I ask, replying to his unspoken words, "I can't live a scheduled life, without excitement or spontaneity. I can't mary for power, for money, for status. I can't do any of that, I don't want to do any of that. I want to be free, I want to laugh, I want to be able to eat only bread for dinner, I want to have conversations that actually matter, I want love, I want you." then I kiss him, I kiss him with all the will I can muster up. He kisses me back, I and start to forget about his thought of leaving me. It doesn't seem the same can be said for him. He gently pushes on my shoulder after a minute, to which I protest,  
"Not tonight, I'll see you again, soon." my entire body fills with unease, my chest feels tight, I don't like him leaving. It seems to be different this time, no goodnight kiss, no laughing. "Goodnight Katniss," he runs this thumb softly over the small welt that formed on my forehead from the stairs fall, lastly he kisses the top of my head. He leaves me sitting on the couch, still in my bra and underwear. I try to process what just happened before realizing my head is hurting again, either from the pills wearing off or from the anxiety that is filling me. I stand, consider putting my dress back on, but decide against it, before walking out to the garden, back to where Peeta and I had our dinner earlier in the evening. I gather the blanket and basket, once back inside I throw out the rolls and get rid of the towel they were wrapped in, so I can put my lotions back into their container. Back in my room I shake out the blanket, something falls out of it, Peeta's shirt I realize, he must have forgotten about it. I'd love to see him explain that one to Effie, the thought almost puts a smile on my face. Almost. I remove my uncomfortable bra and throw on the big shirt, before walking and getting five more pills for my head, two extra to knock me out so I won't be up all night thinking about what just happened. I fall into my bed, already bleary, I don't have a blanket, so I just wrap the big shirt that smells like him around me and fall into black unconsciousness.

_I hope everyone liked this chapter! (Or maybe didn't because who likes a fighting Peeniss relationship?) Thank you for all the reviews, favorites, and follows, I appreciate all of you more than you can imagine (unless you're also a writer, then I bet you can imagine.) I don't know if I'm going too quickly with this story, so if I need to slow down please tell me! I'll have the next chapter up soon hopefully, I have so many plot points I'm excited to write about! Please leave a review if you can! -MGB_


	5. Chapter 5

**This chapter starts at the end, then goes back to explain. The times each part occurs at are posted in bold lettering above the each part.**

Peeta wasn't lying when he said we'd see each other again, because we do. Our date on the third Wednesday of the month starts typically, takes a turn for the wild side, and ends disastrously.

**11PM**

I've been locked in my room for four hours when I hear a soft knock at my door, "Katniss?" it's Prim,

"It's locked," I hear the knob giggling for moment then Prim is inside my room, jumping up onto my bed with me, smiling.

"How'd you learn how to do that?" I sniff, rubbing some tears from my face; I don't like people seeing me cry.

"Rose taught me, she gets into a lot at Snow's," she says as she twists a piece of hair back into place, securing it with the bobby pin she used to pick my lock. I try to smile at her but I'm still crying, so it's kind of hard.

"Are you okay?"

"No," I answer honestly, shaking my head, "No Prim, I'm not."

"I'm sorry," her blue eyes are large and sad, I feel bad that I'm the source of her despair.

"It'll be okay, eventually," she offers.

"I hope so," I don't tell her that I'm not sure it ever will be okay, I don't know how that can happen anymore. We fall into silence and I begin braiding Prim's hair before she speaks up again,

"Did you love him?"

"Yes," I answer immediately, without a doubt in my mind.

"Why did you love him?"

"He made me happy. He was different, he cared, about everything, not just about himself." I give her the simplest explanation I can think of, she wouldn't understand me loving a District 12 boy when there was a president's son at my disposal.

"I care," she says, adding "about you," I nod,

"I know Prim, I care about you too, but we love each other as sisters, Peeta and I... our love was different,"

"How?" I don't know how to explain Peeta and I, no one marries for love here.

"You know how you feel when Dad remembers your favorite flavor of cake is chocolate ripple and orders it just for you for your birthday? Or when Valor thinks of a new design just for you? Or if Rose remembers your favorite song? How that makes you feel, they care enough to think of those small details that mean the world to you."

"Yes," she smiles, probably thinking of cake now.

"Well, that's kind of what love is. It's... a feeling, it's the feeling when someone remembers something so small about you most people would think it wouldn't matter. It's the feeling of being with a person you can trust, without fear of judgement, you can be yourself. It's the feeling of absolute sureness, it's undoubtable."

"And you had that with Peeta?"

"Yes," I nod sadly noticing her use of the past tense "had."

"Why can't you have that with Gale?"

"You can't choose who you love," I say, thinking of how much simpler everything would be if I could just love Gale.

"Do you think Mom and Dad love each other?"

"I think they're good for each other, I think they work," I don't want to ruin the image of my parents marriage for my little sister.

"But they don't love each other." She doesn't say it as a question. "I want to love someone."

"You will, someday." and I hope I'm right, I don't want Prim to end up in a loveless marriage, living a dull life.

"I want him to be tall, with dark hair. Although you said I can't choose who I love, well I hope I find him soon, and I hope he loves me right back,"

"That sounds lovely Prim,"

I brush my fingers through her hair, undoing the braids I had made while we talked. "Do you want me to sleep in here tonight? I don't want you to be sad."

"Thank you. Yes, I'd love for you to stay." I tell her, she immediately makes herself more comfortable next to me, snuggling under the blankets. After she's in place I switch off my light, and in a tired voice Prim says, "I'll always love you," and gives me a kiss on my cheek, before I can make the same promise back to her she is peacefully asleep.

* * *

**2PM**

Our date starts ordinarily, maybe a little tense from our last one, but we're both as excited as ever to see each other. As soon as Peeta walks into my house he asks me to put on shoes, because he has a surprise for me. I do so obediently, choosing a pair of white flats to match my yellow dress. He shuffles me into the waiting car, all while I beg for hints of where we're going. "Just a little one?

"Not a chance." I then put on my best pouty face, which he gives a light kiss to. Our car ride is short and switches from me bugging him to me giving him the silent treatment. Nothing breaks him. I'm not talking to him again when we get there, and I have a blurry memory of this place, I know I had been here before. It isn't until we're inside (or outside maybe) when I have a snap memory of the place. Tallulah. It means "leaping water" and there's a reason for it. Tallulah is a beautiful circle of manmade waterfalls that are 150 feet tall and have walkways throughout. The "leaping water" comes every hour, on the hour, a breathtaking show is put on, where the water from the falls reach and stretch in every direction, forming amazing pictures in midair before crashing down; if you're on the walkways you'll get soaked.

All at once the memories of playing here with Prim when we were young come flooding back, I remember asking our nana, who was in charge of us for the day if we could come here when Prim was just three months old, for whatever reason she agreed. When we got here Nana had set us off to play (me toting around a fat baby Prim.) When the water show started I was fascinated, engrossed, not knowing the water would come crashing down it caused an awful lot of problems. When it did Prim started wailing, and we were both soaked through. Picking her while she was flailing proved to be difficult for a five year old me. Eventually we made our way back to our nana, who scolded me for my runny make-up, which only made me cry more. All in all, a horrible experience.

The second time I went back I was nine, and only agreed because Prim incessantly bugged me. She was four then, and a little more apt at holding her own. That was a good memory, we both played and had a surprising amount of fun. When the water show started we ripped our dresses off, leaving us in our bathing suits, and danced in the warm rain. We remembered to request water proof make-up that morning, so neither of us got scolded for runny mascara. So as far as scores add up to a fifty percent chance that this will be a good date.

Peeta and I make our way to a circle of pavement where guests, usually children, can sit. We settle in on the warmed stone and I sigh happily,

"What made you think of this place?" I ask him, most people disregard Tallulah, they're too busy to be playing in the water.

"Finnick, he told me about it," he admits, which of course makes sense, with Finnick loving the water.

"I wonder how he heard about it." I say absentmindedly, "And what made you think of another date, after the last I mean."

"I missed you, and I was thinking about what you had said, about not wanting to be trapped here."

"Oh," I may have gone on but just then the clock chimes and the show starts, I grab Peeta's hand and pull him up. We watch the shapes that form, mostly animals and famous people, and when the water crashes down we dance. It's sweet and fun and sexy. All three at once. Kissing in the rain is not overrated, I find out. The show lasts about ten minutes, and by minute seven I've pushed Peeta into a waterfall pool, and he's managed to grab my ankles, causing me to slip in next to him. "Hey!" I splash him, but he just pulls me close and kisses me again. We stay in the pool for the next three minutes, when the show stops we pull ourselves out. My yellow dress clings to my skin, my hair, which had been carefully curled by Vapor this morning now hangs in sheets next to my face. Peeta pulls off his soaking shirt and I wish I could do the same, but I hadn't brought a bathing suit. However I don't mind staring at a shirtless Peeta.

"What were you saying about thinking about what I had said? Are you going to whisk me away from here, save me like a damsel in distress?" I say dramatically, while completely joking, Peeta however blushes and looks down at his hands. "What?" I ask, suddenly nervous.

"I was thinking, since you're unhappy here, and I have so much room in my new home back in 12.." he trails off, checking my expression to gauge where he is getting, he must have not liked what he saw because he quickly follows up with, "Never mind, it was a stupid idea, just forget it..."

"No! No, Peeta. It's just..." I'm at a loss for words, his proposition is insane, yet I can't help the bubbly feeling in my stomach.

"This is your home, you couldn't leave." he finishes for me, incorrectly.

"It's not that, I could leave here but, it's a lot,"

"Of course, take your time, I'll always be here." he said it so unwavering that I couldn't not believe him,

"I'll go, I'll go anywhere with you," I don't leave any room for doubt.

"Really?" Peeta's smile brightens.

"Yes," he picks me up and spins me around, I'm not worried about slipping on the wet stone, with his arms wrapped around me. He kisses me before setting me back on my feet. "Well lets go!" I say as soon as I've regained my footing.

"Right now? I packed us a lunch," he reaches down into his bag and pulls out what looks like a soggy cheese bun. "I guess they're ruined, I didn't know about the water pouring down on us."

"That's alright, we'll eat on the train." I promise, "I bet it won't be as good as your cheese buns though," I add as an honest afterthought

We call the car up and I have a vague sense of déjà-vu from our first date as we load in the back. This time we're soaking wet though, if our driver notices he doesn't say anything.

"Should I have learned to drive?" I ask, most people here don't know how, chauffeurs were used by every respectable family.

"Only the government uses cars in 12, I never learned."

"What do you do to get around?" I ask, I can feel my eyes widen in shock.

"We walk,"

"Everywhere?"

"Yes, 12 isn't very big."

"Oh," I'm struck with the realization that I have no clue to what I'm running off into, but when Peeta squeezes my hand the unease inside of me weans. I'll be with Peeta, I'll be fine.

"What's 12 like?"

"Well, there's two major parts of 12, the Mines and the Town. I used to live in the Town, now I've moved into the Victor's Village, my family refused to move in with me, something about their pride I figured, even if they never said it."

"What's your family like?" I interrupt.

"My father is kind. Kind doesn't even begin to describe him, I hope to be as much of a man as him one day. My mother, she's tough. She's hard to get through to, but underneath that she cares. My oldest brother, he's how older brothers are I suppose, kind of an asshole but can be compassionate when he wants, his name is Carac. My second older brother, Kiev, is nicer to me, closer in age I guess, he still plays that superiority card whenever he can though."

"I can't wait to meet them," I say with earnest, secretly I'm wondering why the Capitol gets a bad rep for names when Peeta's brother's names are Carac and Kiev. I don't point that out though.

Soon enough we're back at my house, or what used to be my house? I'm giddy as I run up the stairs, still in my damp clothing, I make sure to kick of my shoes, so I don't leave trails through the house.

I'm not sure what to pack, Vapor holds onto most of my clothes, although I don't think my everyday wear would be acceptable in the districts. I throw in underwear and sleep clothes, I find a few pairs of shorts and some t-shirts that (in my opinion) aren't too outlandish or gaudy. "Hey, is it cold or warm in 12?" It's always warm here, I don't have too many sweaters or pants, and they're probably stored away, seeing we're at the peak of our heat season.

"Right now it's getting to the hottest part of the year. We certainly get cold months though."

"I'll have to order some warm clothing," I mumble to myself. "Okay, this is as good as it's going to get I think," I say this louder, letting Peeta know I'm ready to leave.  
"You might want to change," he points out, I look down at my dress that is still clinging onto my skin for its dear life. I pick out a light blue dress and move into my bathroom to peel off the yellow one, toweling off slightly before slipping into the warm blue cotton. "Alright, now I'm really ready." We get downstairs and I find a few pairs of sandals, I strap on one pair and shove the other two into my bag. I walk to my front door, and take a deep breath, looking around at my house one last time. Peeta joins me, and I know he is trying to see if this is all too much for me or if I've changed my mind. To reassure him of my commitment I stand on my tip toes and give him kiss, I smile into it.

And with a small little whimper everything comes crashing down. Our future shatters. My mother is standing ten feet away, her eyes are bugging in an unnatural way I have never seen before, her lips are pressed so tightly together that they've turned white. She starts sputtering out nonsense words, I catch: "Katniss... 12... can't believe... I never... how I raised you..." I think she might faint her skin has turned so pale. She finally composes herself with a couple of deep breaths, and says, and I quote, my mother speaks in such an unladylike way I almost applaud, before remembering what's happening, she says: "Katniss Comely Everdeen. What the fuck are you doing with that boy and a bag in your hand. You'd better hope I wake from a dream before I have you both killed. I expect you to turn your ass around and march up those stairs, and when you come down you'll look like an acceptable young lady, with an acceptable young man. I cannot believe you would do this to yourself, are you upset? Did you want to punish yourself?" I lose my ability to speak for a moment, my mouth can only open and close like a fish.

"What?" is all I manage to get out, completely confused at my mother's absurdity.

"I think you're unwell, I think something has gone wrong in your mind, but don't worry, we'll get you the best treatment." she loudly whispers this, as if she doesn't want Peeta to hear, even though he's standing a foot away from me. "Come on dear, lets get you to bed, we'll have the doctors set you up a room for the morning. And I'll take care of you next." She points at Peeta. For a moment I can only stare, then I say,

"No." it stops her in her tracks, she had been moving towards the stairs, waving her hand so I'd know to follow.

"Sorry?" she cocks her head, not understanding.

"No, mother. I won't go with you, I am in my right mind, I'm going with Peeta."

"Katniss," she sighs, "Don't make this harder than it needs be." when she sees I'm not budging she sighs again, "Really dear, you're being ridiculous." she then pulls out a small buzzer from her pocket, pushes a button and speaks into it. "Please send over Crosley."  
"Mom!" I gasp, Crosley was one of our bodyguards, the biggest and strongest, and was only called in times of crisis. "Peeta," I turn to him, "We have to go now, before Crosley comes," I grab my bag push us both out the door, my mother stays put but I hear her sigh with impatience again. We've made it partially down the walk when I hear Crosley's gruff voice behind us.

"Miss, everything will be a lot easier if you turn back and return to your mother, I won't hurt the boy."

"No," I say defiantly, bravely, still walking. The word has barely passed my lips when I feel two huge hands wrap around my waist, and in a flash I'm thrown over Crosley's beefy shoulder. "Put me down!"

"Sorry, miss, can't"

"You heard her, put her down," I can't see Peeta, because I'm staring at Crosley's back, but I imagine he's trying to size himself up to Crosley, an impossible task for anybody."Move aside," Crosley brushes Peeta off effortlessly. It isn't until I feel Crosley step off his path for a moment that I get worried about Peeta. He's trying to fight against Crosley and that's a fight only Crosley can win. I hear a brief scuffle and then we continue moving, once we move a few more feet I see Peeta on the ground, but he's jumping up and coming back again,

"Go Peeta! Please just go," I'm sobbing by now, both frightened and powerless. I can tell Peeta won't leave me by myself, he's terrified of what they may do to me. "They won't hurt me," I'm kind of lying when I say they won't hurt me, they won't hurt me _physically_. Emotionally and mentally were still in the playing field. Peeta doesn't let up and I know this won't end well. I try kicking and wiggling out of Crosley's grasp, but he holds me tight. Peeta is persistent, and Crosley ultimately punches Peeta, and I see him crumpled behind as I'm carried off, "Peeta!" I sob harder, "What did you do to him?" I scream through my tears, failing as hard as possible, I feel my foot connect with his jaw and Crosley grunts, but doesn't let up until he's dropped me on my bed. I see my mother rubbing her temples as if I'm a bothersome child,

"It's for the best," my mother promises, before closing, and I can hear, locking my door. I'm trapped in like an animal.

_Sorry I've been gone for so long! I swear I'll try and update more often, but (read this in Effie's voice) school's a bit of a bear. I hope everyone liked this chapter, I'm glad I got to write the Katniss and Prim relationship a little bit. A guest reviewer asked about my line spacing, so I hope this chapter was a little easier to read! If you have time please leave a review to let me know what you thought! -MGB_


	6. Chapter 6

I wake up in a forest of golden hair. I'm perplexed for a moment before realizing it's Prim, which brings yesterday's events flooding back to me. A deep sense of despair fills me, I have no clue what will happen to me now. I wipe the fog from my eyes, roll out of bed, and check the clock in my sitting area reads 3:04am. No wonder Vapor hasn't come for me yet. I wonder if my mother will let Vapor take care of me or if she will just have me boxed up and shipped directly to the doctors. I pace weighing my options, I certainly don't want to go to the hospital, I suppose I could run away, before anyone wakes. I could find Peeta.

I seriously contemplate how hard it would be to scale the side of my house, going through my window when my eye catches Prim. My little sister looks so sincere, her blonde hair is framing her face in soft waves, her eyes are gently shut, and her pink lips are curved into a slight smile. I can't leave her, and I realize guilty that I had no regard for her yesterday, when I was ready to abandon everything here, without a second thought. I hate myself for it. With the only option being to stay I cross the room and crawl back onto my bed. I pull Prim in close, and I hear her sleepy voice, "Katniss?"

"I didn't mean to wake you, go back to sleep," I give her a kiss on the crown of her head, and she complies. I wait out the hours clinging tightly to Prim, nervous about what will happen in the morning.

Vapor shows up, at 5 AM on the dot, which doesn't allow me to completely let down my guard, but I take it as a good sign. For now. "Prim!" is our wake up call, "What are you doing in here, Valor will be worried sick about you," Prim rubs her eyes, letting out a yawn,

"Sorry Vapor," she mumbles, before she can say anything else Valor is in my doorway,

"Have you seen- oh there you are, come on honey, we need to get started." I think it's sweet how Valor cares about Prim, say what you will about the Capitol and our greediness and admittedly- bloodlust, but we do care about each other. My little sister trails after Valor obediently, stopping to give me a kiss on my forehead, and whispering,

"I love you," before leaving.

"Alright, with that all sorted out, we can begin today." Vapor runs my bath, and we go through our usual routine, "It sounds like your mother has something excited planned for you today, she picked out your dress specially last night."

"Oh really?" I ask, my mouth dry, I smile to hide the worry I'm sure is written on my face from Vapor.

"I don't mean to gossip," she says, then proceeds to do just that, "but she said, 'I'll be setting Katniss up for her future tomorrow.' doesn't that sound exciting! Don't tell her I ruined the surprise, she'll have my neck!" she shampoos my hair merrily, not like someone who just risked their neck by relaying information.  
"I won't tell her," I absentmindedly promise, caught up in wondering what my mother could have planned for me. After my bath Vapor lays out a dress bag and I half expect it to be a hospital gown. What awaits me is not an ugly, white, napkin like dress with a slit up the back, on the contrary, the dress is white, but it is beautiful. It's embellished with jewels and is strapless,

"Do you like it dear? Your mother will be happy to see you in it." I can't reply for a minute, my throat closes and I feel tears swell in my eyes. My mother is sending a clear message with this dress, that looks so alike a wedding dress: my future she's planned involves marrying me off, to a respectable gentleman, with lots of power and money I'm sure. Vapor see my emotion, and seriously misreads it, "Oh Katniss! I know the dress is beautiful," she cries, bringing me into a hug. She squeezes for a moment before running a tissue against my _actual eyes_, "We can't have those tears fall, they'll ruin your face. Alright, let's get you into this! We can't have you running late!" I step into the prison, Vapor pulls it up and zips me in snug, "Well aren't you beautiful! You look like a bride!" she smiles at me before gathering her things to leave, not realizing the magnitude of her words, or the effect they had on me.

* * *

"Katniss, will you stop _sulking_," my mother peruses her lips, "For heaven's sake, he was a _District 12_ boy." she thinks the more times she says 'District 12' the quicker I'll come to my senses and realize that Peeta holds no worth for me. But she is wrong.

"You're going to start the rest of your life today! Try and act happy for once in your life! It won't kill you!" she clicks away then, throwing over her shoulder, "We're leaving in fifteen minutes!" I sigh and go to wait in the sitting room closest to the car. I close my eyes for the fifteen minutes, willing my body to dissolve itself into thin air.

"Katniss! Wake up!" my mother snaps me out of my unrealistic wishing. She has Prim in tow, which gives me hope that she isn't carting me off to lock me in a hospital. Unless she's allowing Prim to come to say goodbye to me. I'll have to wait and see.

I stare mindlessly out of the car, not paying attention to where we're going, until we get there. Gale's. I look down at my dress, remembering the innuendo that goes with it, Vapor gleefully saying 'You look like a bride!'. I can't say I'm surprised.

We're greeted by Gale and Rose, which explains why Prim was brought along. "Katniss," Gale smiles, he's holding a small black velvet box, and my heart starts hammering. Did my mother already convince him to propose? Right now? Gale unintentionally calms me when he simply hands me the box, and doesn't get down on one knee. "I hope you like them." They're earrings. Earrings are fine, given the alternative.

"Thank you," I accept them, "Take them home with you please, I don't want them getting lost." I hand the box to my mother.

"Dear, don't you want to wear them?'

"Vapor picked these earrings specifically for this outfit, it would be rude to change her design."

"Fine." she then turns, "Hello Gale, Rose," my mother graciously smiles at the two, formally greeting them, not letting on the nightmare of having me as a daughter. "Rose, Prim, why don't you two go off and play?"

"Mom, we don't _play_ anymore, we 'hang out'" Prim whines, and I can't help but smile at her distress.

"Okay dear, go 'hang out'."

"Gale, I made a reservation for you two, you have the address I sent you? It's within walking distance from here."

"Yes ma'am I do."

"Alright, well you two get along then, I'll be going. And Gale, call me Mayve for heaven's sake, ma'am is much too old."

"Yes ma'a-, sorry, okay Mayve." My mother shoots me a look before walking off, a look that says "_be nice!_" I wonder how she could do this to me. I also wonder about her request to Gale, she's never asked anyone to call her by her first name, unless it was one of my father's businessmen. "Are you ready?" Gale turns to me.

"As I'll ever be." I reply somewhat glumly. We start down Gale's drive, a rather long one. I decide to make the best of the situation, breaking the silence I ask, "What would you do if you had no obligations?"

"Sorry?"

"You know, if you didn't have to worry about.. status," I make sure I don't step too far out of line with my question.

"Huh, I never really thought about it."

_How disappointing._ I think, and sarcastically add, _and shocking._

"What would you do?"

_Be with Peeta._ I answer in my head immediately, and I'm glad I don't blurt my answer out, as I so often do. Instead I answer, "I never really thought about it, either."

"Maybe we can figure it out together."

"Maybe," I say, while thinking _doubtfully_. "What would be your perfect day?" I try again.

"Aren't they all perfect?" he flashes me a smile, which would probably make any other girl's heart melt, but not mine. Frustrated by the lack of movement in our conversations I pull the shoes off my feet, finding instant gratification against the soft rock streets. "Katniss? What are you doing?" Gale whispers, looking around, checking if anyone has noticed my atrocious behavior.

"My feet hurt," he stares at me warily, as though I had three eyes instead of two (we pass someone minutes later who _does_ have three eyes instead of two, I don't understand some of the cosmetic surgeries people go through.) I sigh and slip my feet back into the heels, thinking about how Peeta would have offered to carry my shoes, or me.

We keep walking along the streets, and I wonder how much longer because my feet are screaming, I think Vapor gave me a shoe size too small. Our conversation dies so I start eavesdropping on the residents. I hear two women, one in a shockingly pink outfit, the other in an equally shockingly green outfit, gossiping, "The next games will be starting soon,"

"Oh yes, the Quell, I can't wait for the announcement of what it will be this year."

"I can't even imagine!"

"Just a few months now!"

"Ooh, I'm so excited!"

"Me too! I can't wait!"

You know it's a bad date when you'd rather listen to two colors talk about the Hunger Games, an exhausted discussion. We pass the gossipy ladies and come across a man with three eyes, talking very haughtily about a new designer, who was giving him exclusive new clothing. After him we run into no other than Vapor, who's out with a group of her friends, each has skin dyed a different color. I'm glad I kept my original earrings in, or else I'd never hear the end of it. "Look who it is! Katniss dear! Ladies, this is Katniss! I do her makeup each and every morning! I haven't taken a day off since I was eleven and started with her! She was fifteen months old!" I get a chorus of

"You're so beautiful!"

"I love your hair color! Is that natural?"

"Your dress is stunning!"

"Yes, yes ladies, she is glorious!" Vapor beams at the opportunity to show me off, I know she does it out of love, and pride, so I try not to let it bother me. "Now who is this young man?"

"This is Gale Hawthorn,"

"Hawthorn? Why does that name sound familiar to me?" a pale pink friend squints at Gale. A yellow friend squeals, "Ooh! Ooh! I know!" she hops up and down excitedly, "Hawthorn! That is President Snow's daughter's new last name! When she married! She married a Hawthorn!" if I thought the group was overbearing to me, it's nothing compared to the attention Gale receives now.

"What's being the President's grandson like?"

"You're very handsome, so, so very handsome," (I think the green friend drools while saying this.)

"Can you get me an invite to the parties?"

"Do you know what the Quell will be like this year?"

"Do you need a new stylist? I'm a stylist!"

A million questions fly through the air in a record amount of time, "Hey!" I snap, sounding uncomfortably like my mother.

"Oh yes, Katniss is right, he's _her_ date." Vapor says, reeling in her rainbow of friends. "We must be going, anyways. It's always so nice to see you dear," she gives me a hovering kiss on both cheeks, which I return. The group swaggers off and suddenly I wish they were back here, fawning over us, it beats the awkward silence we're left with.

We continue walking, our restaurant is only a few minutes walk from our encounter with the color group. I recognize the restaurant from another first date. A first date with Peeta. We walk into Surmené and I wonder how my mother keeps securing these last minute seats at the über exclusive restaurant. Perhaps she has a permanent reservation, so it's available whenever she needs it, I wouldn't put it past her. I wonder if she put two and two together and puzzled out that Peeta and I had been here, and used that fact against me. I wouldn't put that past her either.

We settle into our seats, "Everything sounds so good, I don't know what to order." I say.

"I'm having the steak." Gale closes his menu after looking only for a brief moment.

"What do you think I should get?"

"I don't know? Whatever you think sounds good." Ultimately I order strawberry chicken.

Our date passes boringly, with no laughing or dunking bread into hot chocolate, no hot chocolate at all actually. Gale asks for a sophisticated wine with a name I can't pronounce instead.

* * *

We're walking up the drive when Rose and Prim come rushing down, Rose looking ecstatic, Prim looking confused. "How was your date?" Rose squeals, "Ooh wait! We probably ruined the end of the date kiss! We'll leave!" she grabs Prim's hand, who shoots me a quizzical look before being yanked off by her friend. Gale laughs a little, and I can't help but smile a little bit.

"So that kiss," Gale says, and not a second later he is leaning down, his hands pulling my face up to his. I don't realize I should be angry until after it's over. I'm dating Peeta, not Gale. I should be angry at this whole day, how did I go on an entire date with Gale, and not resist once? I'm angry at myself. While all of this is going though my head my car pulls up, I see my mother grinning, undoubtably having seen the kiss.

"Take your time saying goodbye! I'm not even here!"

"We already said goodbye," I say, turning to the car, somewhat rudely, but I don't care, because there's no rule saying I have to be polite to Gale, when I'm dating Peeta. Prim comes hurrying down the walk, along with Rose who is singing about "Gale and Katniss K-I-S-S-I-N-G in a tree." which puts a wide smile on my mother's face, but makes me flush with anger and embarrassment.

"Bye Rose! Bye Gale!" Prim calls to the siblings.

"How was your date dear? By the sound of the singing it sounds like it went well."

"It wasn't a date."

"Katniss."

"But-" Prim speaks up, but seems to regret what she was about to say even before the words left her mouth. We drive in silence for the rest of the drive home.

When we arrive my mother speaks up again, "Katniss, you stay in the car, Prim, we'll see you later, for dinner, Katniss and I have some errands to do." Both Prim and I are confused, since when did our mother do errands? She hires other people for that. Regardless Prim slides out of the car, and the door shuts behind her with a thud. I'm feeling more and more claustrophobic and panicked by the moment, which is, of course, ridiculous, because it's my mother and I should trust her. But I don't. We drive in silence before reaching a staggeringly tall building, "Go inside, take the elevator to floor one hundred and eleven, he'll be in room 11112. Don't try to bail on this appointment, I told the doctor to call if you're even a minute late, your appointment time is 3:45. Okay, go on dear." I almost trip on my way out of the car, before I can close the door I hear my mother's voice again, I contemplate slamming the door shut anyways. "Katniss? I'm only doing this because I love you." I close the door without another word.

I walk in a dreamlike (or nightmare-like) state into the lobby of the massive building, there are at least twenty busy receptionists on the phone, doing paper work, and talking in brief, urgent tones with men in dark suits. I find my own way to the elevator and push the button for floor 111. I manage to not get any guests in my elevators, my luck chooses bad events to endorse. The ride up is quick and smooth, I'm delivered to a floor with thick red and gold carpeting, I walk along the mahogany doors 11100..11101..11102... all the way to 11112. I knock softly on the door, hoping 'he' might not hear and I can leave. But, as I said earlier, my luck chooses the wrong events to endorse, and the heavy door swings open.

"Katniss Everdeen, I presume? You're on time, good, good. I am , you can call me ." _ seems like a kook_ I think to myself. "You're a quiet one huh? That's okay, that is a-okay, we'll get you talking." I make a vow then to not say a word. "Please come sit," Tilbit talks in a very hushed tone, with deep airy breaths every few words, as if he has just finished running, but unlike after exercise when you catch your breath, his is constant, a constant marathon. He shows me to a black armchair like one I have at home, I sink into it, glad to have some source of comfort in this unfamiliar place.

"Now, Katniss, your mother said you were 'having some _unwordly_ thoughts'. Now, I know your thoughts are _unwordly_ but could you try and... put them into words?" Of course by my luck, I got an idiot for a doctor, perfectly empathized by his use of the word (which isn't really a word) 'unwordly'. He may be directly quoting my mother though. On top of not being bright Dr. Tilbit is uncomfortable to look at, his appearance makes my eyes tired. His skin has under gone countless surgeries, it's orange, and looks like rubber that has been pulled tight, his cheeks have received obvious enhancements. It looks like the surgeon had placed two of the balls from the children's ball pit at the park under his skin and stitched him back up, giving him freakishly big round cheeks. His impossibly back hair is slicked back into a tight ponytail, his ears are adorned with huge yellow jewels, and to top the look off- he squeezed himself into a very tight three piece black suit.

"Hmm?" he breaks me out of my silent evaluation, when I don't say anything he tries again, "Your mother said you refused her help, she wants to help you with your future. Why are you refusing her help?"

"Of course she pits you against me!" I blurt out angrily, breaking my vow of silence.

"Now Katniss, no one is here to attack you, this is a safe environment. Now, why don't you want to follow what she says? She is your mother, mother knows best, hmm?"

"Not all the time, doc," I laugh bitterly at my entire situation, and a little at Tilbit.

"Now Katniss, why do you think she's pitting me against you?" I want so badly to tell him to speak in a normal tone.

"That's what she does, to get her way, I don't want to follow what she says, so she needs to force me into it."

"Now Katniss," I swear if he says 'Now Katniss,' one more time I'll have to punch him. "What is your mother trying to do to you that will ruin your life?"

"She wants me to marry the President's son."

"Oh! I've met the boy, a strapping young lad, eh?" he sees my unamused expression, "Right, well, why is this such a travesty? You'll have everything you need for the rest of your life."

"You're just like everyone else," I mutter grumpily.

"And how's that?"

"You only care about money, power, and appearance!"

"Now Katniss," my hand itches, and my fingers squeeze together, "Why are those such horrible qualities?"

"Because they don't mean anything!"

"I have to disagree, those three attributes mean you'll be secure for the rest of your life. That seems a sensible thing for a mother to want for her daughter. What else is there? What else are you looking for?"

"Love," I hate that I feel embarrassed saying this.

"You can grow to love people." he can tell I'm unconvinced, so he tries again, "Your future husband can give you children, you'll love them." this bugs me for two reasons, he just confirmed my fear that Gale will be who I marry, and he traps me with children. I can't help but imagine kids like Prim, although none have blonde hair, because Gale and I both have very dark hair. The prospect of raising children scares me too, what if I mess them up? What if they grow up believing what everyone else here believes? They surely would, with Gale as their father, and me as their mother, a first hand example of marrying for status.

He sees my pause and smiles, probably convinced he's making leeway with me.

_I said I'd try and update faster and here we are! Only a few days wait, a twenty hour car is to thank, really. If there are any grammar mistakes I apologize, I wrote most of this at four in the morning, but I went back and I think I corrected all my misspells and mistakes! Writing the (not actual) proposing made me think of how cute it would have been if Peeta and Katniss were for real getting engaged in the CF book/movie. One can dream. Anyways, I hope everyone liked this chapter! A huge thank you to anyone who reads this, reviews this, or follows/favorites this story! I'm not joking when I say you all make me very happy, I love hearing your feedback! (Even if it's only a smiley face.) -MGB_


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